


First and last

by ChocoNut



Series: Many ways to say I love you [77]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 8x4 alternate scene, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Kissing, Lots of it, Season 8, Tenderness, The Bang That was Promised, The bang we were deprived of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:02:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25823317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: Their first time turns out to be somewhat different from the awkward fumbling because, well, Brienne deserves some tenderness.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Many ways to say I love you [77]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1234904
Comments: 12
Kudos: 123





	First and last

“Can I stay here tonight?”

The request came out before he could phrase it better, but Tyrion’s unexpected insolence and his own clouded drunken mind prevented him from going the tactful way, bluntness taking over at the last minute, erasing the carefully rehearsed speech he had been repeating in his head right from the moment she had taken off from the feast.

“I kept knocking for a good ten minutes, but Tyrion seems to have dozed off,” he went on, hoping that might be a good enough reason for her to let him in. “Drunk like this, he won’t wake until morning, and I have nowhere else to go.”

Wordless, she stepped aside.

He tentatively followed her. “I can sleep on the floor, my lady—”

“There’s no need,” she immediately doused his suggestion, walking over to the bed and laying a pillow each on either half. “We can share.”

“Are you sure?” He wasn’t too sure, himself. While he wanted it—every inch of his body screaming for contact with her skin, unlike Tyrion, he didn’t want to err, to do anything that might make her feel uncomfortable. “If it feels inappropriate, I can—”

“Oh, go on and stop harping on it.” She began fiddling with her sword, cleaning it, apparently, because she was caressing the blade with a piece of cloth. “It’s nothing new. We have shared a bed at Harrenhal.”

_But this isn’t the same, is it?_

The prospect, both arousing and unnerving, Jaime began to tug at his shirt, the stifling heat of the room and the deliciously enticing visions of the night that was to unfold before him, slowing his progress. “You keep it quite hot in here,” he remarked, pissed-off at his third unsuccessful attempt to get his clothes off.

Her hand paused on the sword. “I’m quite comfortable.” 

“And I am unable to get this off,” he panted, the struggle leaving him breathing heavily. “I—”

“Oh, move aside.” Jaime watched her as she deftly worked on his laces, recalling the last time she had done this for him. She was no stranger to his body, having seen and touched him before, but every little brush of her fingers on his chest added to his hot flushes, the sight of her skin from the gaps in her shirt leaving him wishing _he_ were the lucky garment that clung to her skin. 

“About what Tyrion said,” he started, keen to get it off his chest. “I apologize on his behalf.”

Her fingers lingered on his golden hand. “I need to get this off for—um—” When he nodded, she unfastened the metallic clips and freed him from the false limb.

“Say something, wench.” He couldn’t bear her silence.

“What else do I say except that he’s right?” she admitted in a hushed voice.

A weight lifted off his chest, he raised his arms for her to ease him off his shirt. “So there’s nothing between you and Tormund Giantsbane then?”

“What the hell gave you that idea?”

“He was quite keen on _knighting_ you last night,” Jaime recalled, cringing with disgust at the wildling’s offer to knight her ten times over. “And he was very sad when you left the feast. And eager to ensure you no longer stayed a maiden. He would’ve followed you if I had not intervened.”

Her brows went up, but just for a second, then she thrust his shirt into his arms and turned away. “I must sleep now.”

She got into bed and disappeared under the furs. And Jaime watched her for a while, reflecting on how far they had come. At how what began as hatred as first sight slowly turned into—he was tired of smothering the voice of his heart, done with restraining himself, keeping his feelings under a tight leash.

Hoping for the ice between them to thaw as the night passed, he got into bed next to her.

“You said the same thing to me, remember?” came her muffled voice as soon as he lay down. “ _You’re a virgin, I take it_ ,” she repeated his condescending observation, a slight tremble in her voice.

“I’m not exactly proud of everything I have said or done, Brienne.”

She said nothing after that. Tripped by guilt and an urgent need to make amends, he shuffled closer, careful, though, to keep his hand and body a safe distance from hers. The strong desire he felt for her threatening to stretch out of bounds, he wanted to be careful not to toe the line unless invited.

“None of them even wanted to kiss me,” she mumbled, her back still to him. “At Renly’s camp I heard them talk behind my back, challenging each other to get close enough to fuck me—they wanted to do it only for a bet, not because they—” she broke away, the sound of her heavy breathing speaking volumes about what she was going through.

“How would you want to be kissed?” he asked, slipping into a fit of fantasy.

He half-expected her to snub him with a scathing retort, but she turned to face him. “Softly and gently.” It was a wish, a yearning, calling out to him, telling him to—

“Like this?” he whispered, leaning to move his face to hers, their lips almost touching. Her eyes shone, stepping into a delicate dance with his and she lay completely still, but for the slight quivering of her chin as he placed the lightest kiss on her lower lip. 

She remained still, unresponsive at his touch, and cursing himself, he was about to withdraw, when she kissed him back, with tenderness and passion. Gentle tiny kisses, he kept planting, on her lips and face. His hand moved to her neck, he trailed his mouth across her face, kissing her cheek, the tender skin beneath her ear. She moaned, and her fingers stroking his beard, she sank into his touch.

He needed more. He wanted to go deeper, to set in stone, this beautiful bond they were about to forge.

He kissed her full on the mouth again, deeper, urgent and full of fire and passion and lust as his tongue strayed past her lips, twirling around hers, dying to mate with it. She was getting him harder, needier—the strange mix of shyness and demanding desire she exuded, the very obvious passion that her lips betrayed and the soft feel of her skin driving him to a desperate impatience to explore every inch of the body she’d grown up detesting. Kissing her neck, he dragged the blanket down to her waist, getting it out of his way. He slid his hand up to caress her shoulder, drawing an invisible line along her collarbone, then going down a little, lingering there to feel her breathe before descending further to her breasts. 

And when he reached for the hardness of her nipple, her whole body tensed before she shivered her way into his arms. Her lips seeking his out again, she kissed him with renewed passion. Aroused enough to drive him insane, he returned her kiss more urgently, their tongues probing and caressing each other's mouths. She pressed his hand to her breast, squeezing and rubbing, the pebbly tautness of her nipple between his fingers, rushing straight down to his cock. 

Bold at times, often she was tentative and paused more than once, her kisses, her movements, waiting, urging him to take lead and go all the way. “Fuck all those idiots who refrained from kissing you,” he said hoarsely, “who couldn’t appreciate your body.”

There was a pause, then Brienne whispered, “You were one of them, too.”

“I might have blurted out a thousand insults, wench—” he let his hand lightly caress the back of hers “—but deep down I have always wanted you—I’ve only just realized how much.” He leaned to kiss her neck, the gentle ripple of the moan escaped her throat when he pressed his mouth to her skin, setting his loins on fire. “I wanted you the night we first met,” he confessed, cupping her breast again, loving the firmness. “I wanted you at Harrenhal—” losing control, he seized her lips, deep and lustful, his hand groping wildly at the back of her head, fingers grasping her hair and pulling her hard against him. “I want you _now_ , Brienne. To kiss you, to make love to you.”

One hand on his chest, her fingertips kissing the smattering of hair she met, and the other caressing his stump, she whimpered against his mouth. “You will be my first, Jaime—”

“—and you will be my last, my lady knight.”

They knelt on the bed and began to undress each other, gently, like a pair of newly-weds would. And when she was all his to see and touch, he took a moment to admire her, his cock rising towards her when he took in her pert breasts and the golden patch of hair between her legs. “You’re beautiful,” he sighed, tugging and twirling at her nipple.

“You’re only saying that because you’re too drunk to look at me properly, to see that—”

He silenced her with another passionate kiss, his hand sliding down her stomach. Instinctively, she parted her legs, and he slipped in, a gasp escaping her lips when he treated himself to the soft, delicate wetness of the woman behind the warrior. Possessively, he pressed his stump to her ass and pulled her closer, kissing his way down her body, her nipples capturing his attention again as his mouth captured one. Sucking it into his mouth, he bathed it with his tongue, luscious swirls making her whimper and shiver in his arms. A gentle bite, he placed on it, and with it, came the most wanton sound he’d ever heard. She groaned, arching her back, thrusting her breasts forward in offering to him, when he pressed his thumb to her, massaging and stimulating her, his finger within her, gentle, probing, twisting, and his cock twitching at the note of her voice drifting down his ear. 

Hoarse cries of his name met his ears when he continued to lavish her breast with his tongue, tasting every inch of it, bestowing upon its twin the same treatment, taking his time to savour and devour the enchanting treasure before him. Raining a stream of hot wet kisses over her smooth skin, he made his way up to her waiting lips, and his mouth latched to hers, he slowly eased her down onto her back, his finger still moving within her. 

He nuzzled down her freckled skin, her chest, her ribs, her belly—he traveled further down, determined to explore, to taste her essence. Brienne parted her thighs, the musky aroma of her arousal elevating his senses and his cock to an acute state of awareness. A long slow lick, it was, and she yelped in pleasure, her legs twitching around him. He went again, his tongue fluttering, playing her, light and fast, deep and slow. 

Pinching her nipples, she grabbed his head and pushed him in, rough and needy. Her whimpering, the way she grasped at his hair told him she was close, and he upped his pace, circling her sensitivity, pressing and pushing, sucking deeply until her body trembled in shock around him, the tremors of her contractions trickling down to his cock to tell him it was time.

“I want you too, Jaime,” she echoed, pleasure and the need for more, dripping from her husky voice.

And that was all he needed. Sliding atop her, he nudged her folds with his tip. “Try to stay calm,” he whispered, his cock poised at her entrance. “It might hurt a bit when I push in. But, don’t worry, we can go as slowly as you want me to.”

She gripped his arms, and he entered her, but withdrew when he met resistance. He kissed her damp brow, the tip of her nose, then brought his lips to hers in a passionate promise that he would never hurt her. He went in again, edging himself, angling slightly, then plunged right through. 

He thrust deeper, and she winced slightly, and when he pulled back, there were tears at the corners of her eyes. “I’m sorry, Brienne. If I’ve hurt you—”

“It’s not that,” she whispered, smiling through her moist eyes. “It’s just that—” 

“—I love you,” he whispered back, stroking her hair gently as he filled her again, and with this firm thrust, he was sheathed to his balls in her. Feeling her tense around him, he stayed still, his throbbing cock inside, waiting for her to ease into acceptance. He lovingly kissed her, caressed her breasts, hoping that might relax her. And it worked, for she kissed him back with passionate aggression, sighing deeply against his mouth with an ache only he could alleviate. 

He moved his hips, gently fucking her— _no_ , making love to her like a man would to his new bride. 

Within no time the pain and discomfort on her face gave way to fluttering eyelids and the rhythmic heaving of her breasts. A new sensation, this was turning out to be—the feeling of her tight cunt wrapped around him, the gripping pressure of his cock moving up and down inside her, the sliding slickness of his skin on hers when she began to move with him. She moaned softly at the growing pleasure, and when Jaime responded by picking up the pace, she lifted her hips to meet his thrusts. 

In a way, it was him losing his virginity as well, and it felt like they had always been heading towards this—like the fates had written them to end up together, all odds overcome at last. He dived into her, long powerful strokes exploring her depths, his hard cock evoking sounds indecent, and oh, so damn desirable. Slow and easy, he was in no hurry, covering her mouth with lazy kisses, taking his time to meld into her, giving her time to make him hers.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, urging him in deeper. “Harder, Jaime,” she gasped into his mouth, her desperate fingers dragging down his back.

And he was more than glad to oblige her. To ride her at a frantic pace. To pound her like the moment would end right now. She bucked and thrashed under him, her mouth pressed to his neck, his body absorbing her rapturous grunts, the sensation intense and intoxicating. Her breath was coming in gasps, and he could make out she was close again. She pushed back into him, hovering, holding her breath, before falling back, her body a slippery softness of flesh and limbs beneath him.

His eyes slamming shut, Jaime took a deep breath before he could go in again. He had done this many times. But _this_ —whatever was happening between him and Brienne, felt new, exhilarating, the pleasure, the promises, pushing him over the edge into his release. He opened his eyes to reach into her soul. He craved to find himself within her, to become one with her in a realm beyond their bodies and consciousness. He wished for this sweet act of passion to tie them both into a union, nothing and no one could break. His bliss, he could see in her eyes, his tremors, he could feel on her body, when her name clung to his lips—to stay there forever. 

When he was done and spent, he collapsed in her arms—in the arms of the woman he loved. Her pain was his, he wanted to tell her, when he gently kissed away a droplet clinging to her cheek. “Why the tears, Brienne?”

“The thought that someone could desire me so much overwhelmed me,” she whispered, smiling. “I’m not used to it—”

“Better start getting used to it.” His wandering fingers trailing down her neck, he kissed her lips. “Because I’m going to have a difficult time keeping away from my beautiful wench. And when we’re married—”

“Married?”

“Only if you want it too,” he hastily added, wondering if he had rushed into it. “I know you’re tied to Sansa and your duties here, so I can understand if marriage is not something you—”

“Of course, I want it. I love you, Jaime.” Her eyes began to flood again, a stream or two trickling down her cheeks. “You were my first—”

“And you will be my last, my lady.” He wiped away her tears. “Until the end of my days.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Another excuse to practice smut. Thank you for reading!


End file.
